


Night Like This

by theauthorish



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: Kuroo and Akaashi share an Uber.And maybe something more.





	Night Like This

**Author's Note:**

> https://open.spotify.com/track/1XbnxSNekfUtGENegE5bM9?si=uDu_qZgYS6Obz3eIHzo2Lw
> 
> The song that inspired this! It's hilary duff ft. Kendall of btr lol

 

Tetsurou supposed there were better things to be doing on a Friday night-- surely there were. 

 

He was sure if he called, Kenma would say he was just working on his code again, and Tetsurou could come as long as he didn't mind silence (he never did). Oikawa was probably out with their other co-workers, at a bar much trendier than this one, with bigger, snootier crowds and drinks that tasted less like straight up rubbing alcohol. Tetsurou vaguely remembered being extended an invitation to come along, though he can’t recall anymore why he’d said no. (If he thought hard enough-- which he wouldn’t do-- he’d know it was because everyone there would be with their partners, or at least have one waiting at home; Tetsurou didn't, and it made him feel a little out of place sometimes. He was also a sad drunk.) 

 

Hell, he could even be working. He didn't have any approaching deadlines, but he did know there was going to be a meeting at the end of the month and he might as well get started on his pitches. If he got up and left now, he might manage a rough draft of at least one of those pitches by midnight, save himself some work the rest of the week.

 

He stayed where he was, swilling that awful,  _ awful _ whiskey around in his glass as he watched the swirling lights tint the too-packed crowd in shades of blue and pink and green. The bass of whatever song was on pounded loud enough for him to feel it in his chest. He wondered if he’d ever feel his heart pound so erratically of its own accord; he was sick of never feeling anything for anyone, but wanting a relationship anyway.

 

Stupid heart.

 

Tetsurou knocked back the rest of his drink and flagged the bartender down for another. Maybe these shit drinks would kill the damn thing faster.

 

/////

 

The night wore on, and when he’d decided he’d wallowed in his own loneliness enough, Tetsurou pushed himself off his stool and made his way out onto the sidewalk, only tripping twice the entire way-- pretty impressive after five glasses of their barely-potable-but-cheap whiskey and a building headache in his temples. 

 

He stepped right up to the curb, one hand stuck in his pocket for lack of anything better to do with it, the other out and ready as he scanned the scant traffic for a cab to hail.

 

“Kuroo-san?”

 

Tetsurou turned at the familiar voice, though he couldn't quite place who it is. Drunk as he was, (he wasn't afraid to admit it, okay, he was drunk as shit) it took a long moment of hard staring before Tetsurou recognized who it was, exactly, that was looking back at him with a sort of disbelieving surprise-- like he didn't expect to see him at all after their respective graduations from both high school and volleyball.

 

“Akaashi?” 

 

Tetsurou thought Akaashi’s mouth quirked at the corner, but before Tetsurou could be sure, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth and puffed out a small cloud of smoke, obscuring it from view.

 

Tetsurou could only think to say, “I didn't know you smoked.”

 

That got him a more familiar expression: a quizzically raised eyebrow, scathing in its wordless judgment. For a second, Akaashi waited, possibly to see if Tetsurou would say anything else. He didn't, and so Akaashi took the mantle of conversation-carrier onto himself. “You don’t know a lot of things about me, Kuroo-san. It’s been years, and even when we saw each other fairly regularly, you were always more Bokuto-san’s friend than mine.”

 

That was… that was fairly accurate, actually.

 

“I know,” Akaashi said, and Tetsurou realized he’d actually said that out loud, rather than just in his head.

 

Tetsurou colored slightly, but it was probably indistinguishable from the flush of drinking, so. Ha. “How’ve you been?” he asked, taking another careful look at the 27-year-old Akaashi before him, comparing it to the mental image of the Akaashi he’d known from training camps and interhighs.

 

The old Akaashi had always been… for lack of a better word, beautiful. He’d had (and still did) angular, graceful features, a lithe body corded in steel, his frame tall and broad and  _ solid _ though it wasn’t always obvious given how often he was stood next to actual-human-mountain Bokuto Koutarou. He was quiet and unassuming for the most part-- never did anything too outlandish, never wore anything that stood out any more than any other teenager did.

 

Meanwhile, the Akaashi of here and now had definitely filled out more-- his shoulders spanned just a little wider, the tight-fitting knit long-sleeve he wore only serving to emphasize the muscle he’d gained. Oh, he wasn't as ridiculously beefy as Bokuto; but he was definitely… well. Buff. He had a stronger jaw, too, dusted with stubble that couldn't have been more than a day’s worth. 

 

And all that wasn't even taking into account the piercings in Akaashi’s ears (one on each lobe and one on the cartilage of the right) or the small tattoo peeking out from beneath the low V of his collar. He still didn’t stand out too much, but… it did leave an impression.

 

Tetsurou had to wonder how Akaashi could have changed so much. Or if he’d always been this way, and had just hidden it before.

 

Akaashi’s response was a fluid shrug, followed by the stubbing out of his cigarette against the grimy brick wall of the bar. He ducked briefly into the neighboring alley to toss it into a trash can (or so Tetsurou presumed). “All right, I suppose. I pay my bills, do my taxes.” He paused. “I have my vices,” he added, referring to the smoking thing most likely.

 

“I figured.”

 

Akaashi said nothing more, and Tetsurou’s brain was still too mushed up to think of anything else to say, so he went back to looking for a cab.

 

None came.

 

After a few minutes, Akaashi said, “Kuroo-san, do you not have a ride after all?”

 

Tetsurou shook his head. “No. Lookin’ for a taxi.”

 

“Do you not have a phone?”

 

That gave Tetsurou pause. “I do,” he said, fishing it out from his pocket like proof.

 

“So why not text someone to pick you up? Or maybe take a Uber?”

 

“I--” Tetsurou froze. That… was a good idea, what the fuck.

 

Akaashi’s raised eyebrow was somehow even more cutting the second time around. “You?”

 

Tetsurou groaned quietly at his own stupidity, pinching the bridge of his nose as he pulled up the right app. “Gods, I hate you,” he muttered, waiting for the app to find him a driver.

 

“That might be blasphemy, actually,” Akaashi commented lightly. “And what did they ever do to you?”

 

Tetsurou snorted. “Oh fuck off.” After a few minutes of waiting, the app gave up, unable to find him a ride. Tetsurou tried again. “What about you?”

 

“What  _ about _ me?” Akaashi reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly squashed box of what looked to be more cigarettes. He seemed to be contemplating whether to have another or not, flipping the cover open and shut as he frowned down at it.

 

“Do you have a ride?” Tetsurou made a small triumphant noise as he finally found a Uber, the driver a little less than ten minutes away according to his phone.

 

Akaashi tucked the box away again. His hands were devoid of a new cigarette-- apparently he’d decided against another smoke. “Not yet. I might get one soon, though.”

 

Tetsurou wondered about that. Sure, Akaashi might  _ try  _ to get one soon, but what were the odds he’d find one easily? It was already pretty late, and they weren't in a part of town particularly famous for its nightlife. There weren't likely to be that many more Uber or taxi drivers around here.

 

He must have been making a face, because Akaashi sighed and asked, “Is there a problem with that, Kuroo-san?”

 

Not… technically. But Tetsurou had always been a worrywart. It took a bit to put his thoughts back into something resembling order to make the right words, but he got there in the end. “Will you be able to find one?”

 

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Akaashi replied. “Have you found one?”

 

“Yeah.” Tetsurou checked the screen again, read off the expected arrival time. 5 minutes. “Where are you staying?”

 

“Right now? Here.” Akaashi’s voice was so perfectly flat, Tetsurou was tempted to ask how he’d plucked it from his vocal chords and ironed it out before actually using it. “If you mean at the end of this--” Akaashi made a vague, flippant gesture with one hand as if to indicate whatever it was he meant, Tetsurou certainly didn't know-- “Then at my apartment.” He paused. “Obviously,” he added, as if just to drive the point home that, yes, Tetsurou had asked a stupid question. He looked disappointed in Tetsurou, actually. Probably for that very reason.

 

Tetsurou rolled his eyes. “Where’s that then?”

 

“I don’t recall inviting you over.”

 

“I don’t need to know the specifics, just the general area.” He waved his phone at Akaashi pointedly. “If it’s on the way, we could share the ride, probably.”

 

Akaashi’s eyes widened the barest of fractions, hands stilled where they’d begun, once again, to reach for the cigarettes where they were kept away. “That’s not necessary,” he said, after a beat of silence. “Though,” he admitted, voice a tad… gentler, almost, though it had never been particularly rough to begin with. “It is kind of you.”

 

Tetsurou flashed a smirk at that-- that was one thing he always had a retort to. “I’m always this kind,” he teased, chuckling softly at the eye roll Akaashi gave him. More seriously, he went on, “But really. It’s late. I can’t change the booking, but if it happens to be on the way, we could probably discuss it with the driver.”

 

Akaashi sighed, deep and heavy, but Tetsurou wasn't so drunk that he missed the amusement underneath, nor the fact that it meant Akaashi was giving in. 

 

Tetsurou’s grin stretched just a little wider. “Where?”

 

“How about you give me  _ your _ address, and I’ll tell you whether I’m on the way or not?” Akaashi countered. It was almost comical, Tetsurou thought, watching those fine-boned hands produce a lighter and the cigarettes, pluck one out of the box without hesitation and light the end of it immediately after, as if giving in to Tetsurou physically pained him somehow and he needed the nicotine to cope. The little furrow between Akaashi’s brows only added to the image.

 

Tetsurou had always liked getting under people's skin-- especially people like Akaashi, stoic and even-keeled, seemingly unfazed by anything. 

 

He handed over his phone easily, pleased enough that Akaashi was considering his offer that he didn't bother insisting on his way, though if it were anyone else he probably would have argued just for the sake of it, at least for a little longer. 

 

Akaashi took a long drag from his cigarette, scanning the address and the map for a few seconds. When he was satisfied, he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and held the device back out to Tetsurou. “It’s about the same direction,” he said, face somehow impassive despite Tetsurou coughing on the smoke he’d just blown out. Right into his face.

 

He showed no remorse.

 

And if his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, taking petty delight in it all, well-- Akaashi always claimed, later on, that Tetsurou had imagined it. Smoke had a way of distorting things, after all, especially with all the odd lights and shadows it had to play with, in this little nook of Tokyo at such a late (early?) hour of the night. Besides, he would say, Tetsurou was quite inebriated then. It wouldn't be unusual for him to have mistaken what he saw.

 

Tetsurou fixed Akaashi with a narrow-eyed glare, received nothing but a blank stare in return. Finally, he clicked his tongue. “Then you’re coming with me,” he declared, no space for contradiction.

 

The next sigh Akaashi heaved was almost dramatic enough to put Bokuto or even Kenma-- kings of exaggerated reactions that they were-- to shame. He didn't argue, though.

 

/////

 

It didn't take much to convince the driver to pass by Akaashi’s building, thankfully. As he slid in after Tetsurou, Akaashi tugged at his collar to hide the ink on his skin lest the driver turn out to change his mind at the sight of it, then leaned forward to point out his area on the map, discussing in quiet tones what landmark the driver could look for. When it was settled, he thanked the driver and sat back. 

 

The car was small enough-- and the two of them tall enough-- that their legs bumped together no matter how either of them tried to adjust. In the end, Tetsurou huffed a quiet laugh and gave up. “If you’d like,” he said, “You can always stretch your legs out in my lap. So you aren't all scrunched up like that.”

 

The way Akaashi’s nose wrinkled said just what he thought of  _ that _ idea. “No thank you,” he sniffed. 

 

Tetsurou shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

 

He slumped back against the door, taking in the sight of Akaashi. He was feeling more sober now-- maybe from the fresh air, maybe the conversation… maybe it was just that he hadn't actually had as much as he’d thought-- but the point was--

 

The point was, earlier he hadn't really let himself appreciate the sight of Akaashi as much as someone as gorgeous as Akaashi probably warranted. The way the streetlights and neon signs they passed splashed color over the angles of his face, inked his skin in shadows that, by virtue of contrast, further highlighted the beauty of those features that were illuminated: the line of his throat, smooth and golden, not-quite-tan but not-quite-pale; the arch of his cheekbones, high and fine as those European monuments or the grand doorways of their cathedrals; the dark fans of his lashes, black as the evening horizon and delicate as a butterfly’s kiss against his skin.

 

There was the languid, almost challenging tilt of his head, those long, graceful fingers curled loosely to prop up his chin. There was the color of his eyes, a deep, ocean-in-a-storm blue that to this day, Tetsurou had never seen the match of. There was the line of his mouth, lips plush and soft…

 

Without even glancing at him, Akaashi said, “Did you need something, Kuroo-san, or are you simply practicing for the next time you go to a bar and want to creep on an unsuspecting lady?”

 

Tetsurou scoffed. “I wouldn't creep on a  _ lady _ , Akaashi,” he retorted. 

 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, twisting slightly to fix him with his judgmental stare for the umpteenth time that night. “So you would creep on a man then? That’s hardly any better. And more likely to get you punched out.”

 

That garnered a laugh from Tetsurou, loud and uninhibited. “You, Akaashi, are…” he trailed off, trying to think of a word that encompassed all the sass, snark, and sharp edges that Akaashi liked to project.

 

“Not interested?” Akaashi offered, though the fact that he turned to fully face Tetsurou as he said it belied the statement. 

 

“Oho?” Tetsurou smirked, leaning forward just a bit. Akaashi mirrored the action, and Tetsurou grinned even wider. “Your body language says otherwise.”

 

“Is that so.” Akaashi had tossed out his second cigarette earlier when the car had arrived, but Tetsurou had the feeling that if he’d still had it, Akaashi would have puffed smoke in his face again. Since that wasn't an option, though, Akaashi merely grimaced at him-- Tetsurou wasn't fooled though. He caught the little twitch of his mouth, the laughter twinkling in his night-sky eyes like stars.

 

“Mmhm.” He hummed, teasing. “You  _ like _ me, Akaashi, admit it.”

 

Akaashi quirked up a brow. “I might. Will doing so shut you up, or will it only spur you on?”

 

And…  _ that _ caught Tetsurou off guard. He froze, blinking dumbly at Akaashi, who only watched him with the same deadpan expression he always wore. Like he hadn't just basically agreed with Tetsurou and meant it.

 

“Huh. I guess you can be quiet after all,” Akaashi observed, unable to completely strip his tone of amusement.

 

Tetsurou felt heat flood his face. He ducked his head in an attempt to hide it, though it didn't seem to work. He laughed, and it was too breathless, too flustered-- he wished he could take it back. “I… didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said finally, running a hand through his hair.

 

Akaashi shrugged. “We already established you don’t know me quite as well as you assume,” he pointed out.

 

“Yeah… guess you’re right.” Tetsurou couldn’t help but flash a sardonic smile, making a lazy finger gun with the hand nearest Akaashi. “But I know a few ways I could get to know you better.”

 

Akaashi’s face was priceless-- like he’d picked up a cup and taken a deep swallow expecting tea, only to get a mouthful of lemon juice.

 

“No,” he said simply.

 

Tetsurou’s laugh this time around was more genuine, unrestrained and hard enough to have him double over with the force of it. “What, do you not want to?”

 

Akaashi’s expression somehow got even more unimpressed. How he did it, Tetsurou didn't know, especially since as far as he could tell, nothing in his face had changed. “Try again,” Akaashi said firmly.

 

“What, really?”

 

“What, do you not want to?” Akaashi parroted. He flicked a hand in the air as if waving off Tetsurou’s confusion like a particularly pesky fly, and then folded his fingers neatly in his lap. “It’s your prerogative of course,” he went on, “But I can’t say I’d be opposed to seeing just how terrible your idea of flirting is. I’m quite curious.”

 

Tetsurou shook his head slowly. “I don’t know whether I should be offended that you automatically assume it’ll be terrible, or amazed that you actually invited me to flirt with you just now.”

 

“There’s no rule saying they need to be mutually exclusive,” Akaashi noted, absently picking at the cuff of one of his sleeves. “Well, Kuroo-san?”

 

Tetsurou never did really learn how to turn down a challenge. He grinned, dagger-sharp and silver-quick, nudging Akaashi’s knee gently with his own. “You better not back out then.”

 

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. “I could say the same of you,” he retorted, none-too-lightly bumping Tetsurou back into his allotted space.

 

Tetsurou snickered softly, then took a deep breath, steeling himself. He began, “You know, you called it creeping, but you didn't seem particularly bothered by my looking at you."

 

Unfazed, Akaashi replied, "Well it's not like I haven't been on the end of such looks before. And however foolish it is, I trust you somewhat."

 

"Ah, of course," Tetsurou said, dropping his voice low. "Someone as beautiful as you is used to being looked at. Admired."

 

Akaashi merely hummed his agreement. That was fine. Tetsurou was far from done.

 

He let his voice go lower still, rasp gently over his words like a purr. "But have you ever been adored? Treasured?"

 

"I didn't take you for a romantic, Kuroo-san," Akaashi said, arching an eyebrow. "Actually, no, I did, just not quite to such an extent," he corrected. There may have been a slight dusting of pink across his cheeks, but Tetsurou couldn't be sure. The lighting wasn't the best, after all.

 

Tetsurou quirked a brow of his own, smirk growing. "Then I'm not the only one with more to learn, huh, Akaashi?"

 

"So it would seem."

 

"I wouldn't mind teaching you a few things."

 

"Who says  _ I _ won't?"

 

"Would you? Truly?"

 

Silence. 

 

Akaashi regarded Tetsurou carefully; considering the possible moves he'd make and the appropriate countermeasures, if Tetsurou had to guess. It was the kind of look Tetsurou-- no, Nekoma-- had received often from the other side of the net. 

 

He supposed if he really thought about it, this situation wasn't so different. The game and the setting had changed, certainly: this wasn't a sport so much as a match of wits, and instead of a court, they had the cramped confines of the backseat of a Uber. But it was still a game when it came down to it. A competition to see who would cave first.

 

After weighing his options, Akaashi settled back in his seat, giving off a smug sort of vibe despite doing nothing to indicate it outwardly. Tetsurou may have been imagining it, but he doubted it, all things considered. "I guess I wouldn't mind overly much," he admitted, quiet. "You aren't so insufferable as you pretend to be. In fact, you're actually quite…" Akaashi glanced over, deigning to grant Tetsurou with the sight of his smile-- a real one, not his more usual (though still rare) taunting smirk. Tetsurou didn't know how to do anything but fluster in the face of it, a legend he'd only ever heard talked about in whispers at training camps, or in an excited, exaggerated ramble of Bokuto's. 

 

It was just as beautiful as Bokuto had said. For once the dumb owl had been accurate in his description. Dammit.

 

And then Akaashi delivered his killing blow. "You're actually quite sweet, Kuroo-san. I admire it about you."

 

Tetsurou had long forgotten what it felt like to actually use his lungs, he was pretty sure. He was going to die like this, in the backseat of some old man's car, at a weird hour of the night with his old high school acquaintance-slash-rival smiling benevolently at him like he didn't just perform murder.

 

Akaashi waited for his response, but when a full minute had passed with Tetsurou capable of no more than opening and shutting like some sort of fish and steadily cycling through various shades of red, he chuckled quietly to himself and turned away, hiding his face.

 

Tetsurou wasn't sure if it was an act of mercy to be grateful for, or a shame because he wanted to see more of that smile.

 

"You act as if you're unused to praise, Kuroo-san," Akaashi said to the window, Unfortunately for Tetsurou, he couldn't see the reflection clearly enough to know what kind of expression was on Akaashi's face.

 

"Well… I'm not used to it coming for you, is all," he explained. "You were never one of those people who just handed them out like candy."

 

"Hm… that's true." Akaashi finally turned back to Tetsurou. "We're almost at my stop, Kuroo-san."

 

It was a short sentence, blunt and simple, but it felt like… there was more to it. On a surface level, Tetsurou supposed that was his warning that the challenge would be over soon, and it was his last chance to win it. Deeper than that though…

 

Tetsurou didn't know. It didn't feel quite like an invitation, and he wasn't so bold as to ask Akaashi to make it one, especially when Akaashi had seemed so reluctant earlier to let him know where he lived at all. 

 

But it didn't feel like a dismissal either. There was  _ something  _ here, Tetsurou knew, and Akaashi probably knew it too; it had been building since they'd gotten in the car, after all. Something rich and thick, sweet and decadent… something that left Tetsurou's lips tingling with what could have been the desire for a kiss as easily as it could have been a sharp retort. 

 

Akaashi's gaze on him was heavy, lingering. He might as well have been running his fingers up Tetsurou's skin, and the sensation wouldn't have been any different. And yet--

 

And yet, neither of them moved to address these things.

 

If they did, though, Tetsurou could picture the way it would go. 

 

If Akaashi invited him up, Tetsurou would accept, no hesitation. He'd apologize to the driver for the hassle, pay him the full amount and tip him besides, and then he'd slide out after Akaashi, let his hand find Akaashi's hip and settle there. He'd wait for the car to be out of sight, and then he'd tug Akaashi closer and try to taste the smoke he'd had earlier by licking it straight from Akaashi's mouth.

 

In the morning, he'd walk to the nearest store for ingredients and coffee, and then wake Akaashi up to the scent of breakfast being made in his kitchen. But that would be it-- when they'd eaten and cleaned, Tetsurou would go, and though they might exchange numbers and text here and there, nothing more would come of it. Tetsurou wouldn't be able to court him properly after that, not when he'd see him and think only of touching and tasting and  _ taking _ , not when he wouldn't be able to tell if he was in love or just addicted to the rush.

 

If Tetsurou extended the invitation, Akaashi wouldn't turn him down. He would ask the driver to wait, and go get a change of clothes, probably. When he got back, he'd sit exactly the way he was doing now, watching Tetsurou with this controlled want, like he knew he could have Tetsurou, but only to a certain extent-- they'd only just met again after all, there was only so much that Akaashi could be ready for, could predict.

 

When they'd arrived, Akaashi would climb out first, like he knew at all where he was going, like it had been his idea all along. Tetsurou would fumble his wallet, and then the money inside, and then once he'd paid the driver, he'd follow, directing Akaashi in a hushed voice from a few steps back, like it was somehow a secret where he lived. Akaashi would lead, and Tetsurou would follow, and when Akaashi decided he'd had his fill, he'd leave, walking right out of Tetsurou's home like he hadn't been there at all. Tetsurou wouldn't hear from him until a long time later, by which time the embers that he could feel here and now, smoldering under his skin, would have long since cooled.

 

Perhaps that was exactly why neither brought up the subject, though clearly they wanted to. They wanted this to last, maybe, to become something more than the flashbang of a firework, there then gone in a blink.

 

Or maybe that was just Tetsurou.

 

He shifted a little, and when their knees brushed this time, Akaashi left it. Was it stupid that Tetsurou wanted to count that a small victory? Probably. He did it anyway. "I suppose," he laughed quietly, fishing out his phone from his pocket. He offered it to Akaashi. "That this challenge will have to be continued."

 

Akaashi eyed it for a moment, and then took it with one hand, long fingers grazing against Tetsurou's and trailing sparks in their wake. He tapped at the screen for a moment, and then handed it back. "Very well then. I'm generally free around Thursdays and Sundays. Text me before noon without an emergency and you die." This last bit, he said in a tone so grave Tetsurou nearly asked just who he'd buried in it.

 

He didn't, of course, but it was a near thing.

 

The car pulled to a stop, and with a nod of goodbye to Tetsurou, and a quick thanks to the driver, Akaashi was gone.


End file.
